Chapter Six
He was gone. She had expected nothing less. Last night had been something—punishment, retribution, something. But not love.
She knew better than to believe in love. A man never did more with a woman than use her for his own good. Alex hadn’t told her why he’d come, had never told her what happened with Rebecca. He’d just fucked her.
God, she hated that word.
Now she sat in the chair, dressed in the only other outfit she’d packed besides her purloined hiking clothes and the silk dress he’d shredded in the jungle. The black suit was the most respectable piece of clothing she had, despite its microscopic skirt and deep neckline. Maybe the authorities would look at her differently today and send her on her way. She couldn’t tell them any more. Not only was reliving Eric’s death too painful, but they might hold her accountable. If they found her to blame, she’d never be able to get to her son before Santiago.
But if she convinced the DEA to let her go, she could get back to the States, find Hector and disappear. When that happened, this life would be behind her forever. Hopefully her son’s memories of this time would fade, that he would only remember the nice, normal life she planned to give him back in Las Cruces. She ached to hold him again, couldn’t wait to introduce him to her parents, couldn’t wait to be loved again.
The knock came just as her stomach rumbled and she realized she hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday. This being on the run was going to do wonders for her diet. She walked to the door and peeked out, hoping against hope it was Alex. But no, it was a young marine from the embassy, white hat tucked under his arm. She opened the door.
“Are you packed and ready to go, ma’am?” he asked respectfully, though he was probably older than she was.
“Go where?” she asked.
“Home, ma’am. They’re sending you back to the States today.”
Alex sat ramrod straight in the hard metal chair as the head DEA agent, Agent Michaels, and his own superior officer, Captain Winters, circled him like vultures. He’d told them what had happened at Saldana’s, on that mountain, but they wanted to hear it again. And again.
“What was the girl doing out of the compound?”
He resisted the urge to wipe his hand over his face in frustration. Instead he folded them in front of him on the scarred table. “I told you, sir. She said Eric Cortez had told her we were coming. She saw us as her only hope.”
The other men exchanged a glance. Captain Winters spoke. “How did Saldana know we were coming? Why did Cortez trust the girl?”
“I have no idea, sir.”
“Do you not?” the agent snapped.
Alex met the other man’s gaze steadily and watched his temper heat. “No, sir.”
Michaels turned away and signaled the two-way mirror. He waited silently, allowing the tension in the room to rise. In a matter of moments, a marine rolled in a television set, plugged it in, and left. The captain pressed a button and Alex was watching himself having sex with Isabella.
Nerves roiled in his stomach. Christ. They’d bugged her room? From the angle, it looked like the camera was above the light fixture in the corner. His face heated with embarrassment, both at being caught and at being so damn rough with her. He had used her. Because he felt used. Goddamn, he needed to get out of here, needed to find her and apologize. That would be new. He didn’t even know what to say, what he could say, to make up for his treatment.
Then, realizing the captain and Michaels were watching the video, watching Bella, he reached over and slapped the TV off.
Both men turned to face him as if they’d expected nothing less.
“You seem fairly familiar with the girl,” Captain Winters observed dryly.
“Running for our lives through the jungle will do that. That—” He motioned to the screen. “What you saw, was the first time we had sex.”
Michaels braced his hands on the table across from Alex. What a dick. “Doesn’t matter to us if it was the first or hundred and first. She clearly trusts you.”
Ohh. This was not going to be good.
“She’s leaving today for Miami.” Michaels straightened. “You need to follow her.”
“What for?”
Captain Winters braced a hip on the edge of the table, good cop to the agent’s bad cop. “Saldana is still going to be looking for her, whatever else he’s up to. That will be the fastest way to get the information that is on the hard drive she brought us.”
Ah, so they couldn’t crack the encryption on the device she’d risked her life to bring them. Scary, if you thought about the crack techs they had in the DEA.
“Look at it this way.” The captain folded his arms. “You’ll be protecting her as well.”
“What if she makes me?”
“That’s up to you,” Michaels said with a shrug. “You can follow her at a distance or play lover boy, no difference. But don’t lose her.”
***
Isabella drove by the imposing Miami mansion three times, working up her nerve. Driving a car after not doing so for four years was a challenge, but she hadn’t wanted to raise suspicion by hiring a cab to pass back and forth. At least this way she’d get a better look at the place that was guarded like a fortress, complete with wrought-iron fence with wicked-looking tips on the top.
She’d been in the city three days, using part of the money she’d smuggled from Santiago’s compound to buy two fake ids, complete with a credit history that set her up with a gorgeous hotel room. The other part she’d used to buy information about where Santiago’s cousin’s house was. Two false starts and here she was, driving past the house where her son was being held, waiting for her to come for him.
The security guard in the little building by the gate—seriously, not twenty feet from the front steps—stepped out to watch her fourth pass. Okay, maybe she should have timed it better, spaced it out more, but she’d never been the patient type.
So she tugged at the hem of her blouse, exposing more cleavage, pushed her skirt up her thighs, then pulled over and rolled down the window of the rented economy car. “Hi. I’m so lost! Can you help me?”
Men were so predictable. “What can I do for you?” he asked, not even ashamed of himself for staring at her breasts.
“I’m from out of town, and I’m supposed to be visiting my friend, but I’m sure she doesn’t live in a place with houses so big.” She widened her eyes in an attempt to look innocent. “I must have taken a wrong turn.”
He leaned in the door. “Where are you trying to get?”
“She said she lived near Coral Gables. But she’s a single mom. No way she can get something like this.” She leaned over as she waved toward the magnificent stucco house.
“You have her address?” the guard asked her boobs.
Uh, for an imaginary friend with an imaginary address? No. She fumbled with the map she’d used to find this house, squinted at it, passed it to him with a sheepish grin. “It started with a P. I’m terrible with names.” Seriously, she could have been a blonde.
He wasn’t even suspicious. “Yeah, a lot of people get confused with all the Spanish-sounding street names. Let me have a look. Could it be Pomona? Poinciana? Perugia? Palmetto, maybe?”
She made her face brighten. “That last one—is it far from here?”
“No, babe. You just took a wrong turn off Ponce de Leon.” He returned the map to her, smug as could be.
She tucked it away. “I know her house won’t be as nice as this one.” She sighed. “Now that would have been a vacation.”
“Tell me about it. I can’t even go in to use the restroom.”
She widened her eyes. “Uncool.”
“There are some perks.” He leaned casually on the door. “I have connections to get into some of the hottest clubs in Miami. You think you and your friend would like to head down to The O tonight?”
She thought fast. He said he couldn’t even get into the mansion to use the restroom. What good would getting to know him do her? But she had a better chance of being admitted if she knew him than if she didn’t. She slid her thighs together. He noticed, his nostrils flaring, like he was trying to smell her.
“Even if she doesn’t, I do. We don’t have much nightlife where I come from.”
He smiled, slow and nasty. “Okay. Meet me down there at eleven. Think you can find it?”
She let herself look sheepish. “I’ll do my best.”
“My name’s Henry. Ask for me. They’ll let you in.” He straightened and slapped the door, signaling her on her way.
“I’m Bethany.” She gave him one last smile and drove off, shaking all over.
From a compound in the middle of the jungle, isolated for four years, being thrust into Miami crowds in a dark, loud disco was culture shock. She maneuvered through the crowd in her new heels and silk wrap dress. She kept her chin up, scanning the crowd for Henry. He’d seemed tall, in front of Santiago’s mansion, but she couldn’t be sure.
Plus, even in these heels, she was barely five six. Who knew so many tall people lived in Miami? Maybe tonight was Tall People night at The O.
Someone grasped her arm and she jolted, barely able to calm herself as she turned to face Henry, her hand over her heart.
“Oh, you scared me,” she shouted over the pulsing music.
“You look fantastic.”
She wondered that he could recognize her. He was staring at her breasts again. She’d expected it, though, and hadn’t worn a bra beneath the soft fabric. She could see by the light in his eyes that he liked it.
Whatever it took to find out where her son was.
“Did your friend come?” he asked as he led her through the crowd to an alcove, guarded by another big guy. Henry nodded at the man as he passed, but the men didn’t make eye contact.
Was he taking her back there to fuck her? Here? She was willing to sleep with him to get inside the mansion. Doing so would erase Alex’s touch on her skin, but she could make the sacrifice if it meant getting to her son. She’d be damned if she slept with him before she got what she wanted. She was done with that.
He started up the steps to what looked like a plush and cozy booth, the stage already set with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Seriously, did the guy get laid this way?
She’d certainly led him to believe he would get lucky tonight.
Slowly he turned as she tugged at the sleeve of his expensive suit. He lifted one dark eyebrow in question.
“I love this song. Let’s dance.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she was already moving away toward the floor, beckoning him to follow with a wiggle of her breasts. Reluctantly he did, and she rewarded him with a slide of her ass against his crotch.
God. He had been ready to fuck her. She needed to keep him out on the floor as long as she could.
He leaned down as the next song started. “I got us some good stuff back at the table.”
“Oh, one more song, please?” She widened eyes. “I never get to go dancing back home.” That wasn’t a lie.
He grunted, and this time she hooked an arm around his neck and pressed against him, shimmied, then moved away.
Again he tried to lure her to the alcove, but she backed up. “I have to powder my nose.” Did women still say that? She hadn’t had much human interface the past four years, only what she saw on TV.
Apparently he understood her, because he pointed in the right direction. But she could sense his frustration. She would have to get him off, but leave him wanting more so he’d take her back to the mansion.
A hand clamped over her mouth as she approached the women’s restroom and a hard body propelled her forward through the door. She struggled for balance, impossible in the shoes and she whipped her head up.
And met Alex’s eyes in the mirror in front of her.
“Alex,” she gasped when he released her, her heart swelling, only to be deflated by suspicion. She wheeled on him. “You followed me?”
His eyes were black, his brow furrowed. “Keep it down. What the hell do you think you’re doing out there?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You know why I’m here.”
“I know why you’re here, but not here.” He pointed to the floor to emphasize this particular place.
God, he looked wonderful, in a black tank top that clung to his muscles, baggy khaki pants. But everything about him screamed narc. “How did you get in?”
“This isn’t my first time following someone,” he said.
“You’d tell me but then you’d have to kill me?”
“Something like that.” He eased back from her just a bit. “Quit changing the subject. Why are you seducing the security guard?”
“How did you—?”
“Like I said, not my first time. He’s not there, Goddess.”
A moment passed before she realized he meant Hector. “Do you know where he is?” she asked, not daring to hope.
“Not yet, but Jesus, Bella, you’re playing with fire out there. God, look at you. Every man can see every detail of your body.” His gaze moved over her figure. “The way you’re dancing him like a pole—”
She didn’t want to hear those words from him. “He could know where Hector is.”
“You think Santiago keeps him in the loop?” Alex scowled. “We’ve got to get you out of here without your friend seeing.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, blinding her. “If Hector’s not there, Alex, I don’t know where else to look.”
Sympathy softened his expression for a split second before the door swung in. Isabella barely registered the chatter of female voices before Alex leaned in, parting her legs with his thigh, and kissed her, hot and hard.
She found her breath but not her sense and curled her fingers behind his head, holding him down to her, kissing him back hungrily, darting her tongue in for a taste of him. Scotch this time, and he wasn’t drunk with it, though he was acting strangely.
Before she could think about it, his hand slid inside the front of her dress, curving over her breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple before he released the hook, letting the dress fall open.
Then, as he started to move against her, she got it. He wanted the intruders to think he was fucking her in the restroom, to explain his presence.
Asshole.
He nipped at her lip with his teeth, to warn her, she knew, and she gave a throaty moan. His muscles quivered beneath her touch as she explored him, before gripping his ass and grinding against him.
This time he moaned, and released her mouth, her breast, to brace himself on the sink as he thrust against her, again and again, as hard as he’d been that night in Tegucigalpa.
She opened her eyes to see the door swing shut. The women had gone.
She shoved at his shoulders and he staggered back a step, his eyes dark with desire. He struggled to extinguish it as she closed her dress and she wasn’t sure why his effort hurt so much.
“You can swear to me my son is not in that house, and no one in that house can help me find him?” she asked, her own voice husky, which lit another little flare of interest in Alex’s eyes.
“I have it on the best knowledge he’s not in there.”
“Someone you trust?” He didn’t trust anyone.
“I’ve seen enough intelligence gathered on the house to draw my own conclusions.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We get out of here without Sasquatch seeing us, and we go from there.”
Not much of a plan, but she hadn’t had much of one when she came to Miami. She was at square one again.
“All right. Let’s go.”
Isabella strode over to the door, and Alex took a deep breath to clear his head. His ploy had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it hadn’t been acting, on either of their parts. If he’d been able to get his zipper down, he would have been fucking her for real.
In a bathroom.
When she was only looking for her son.
Like he needed proof he was a bastard.
When she opened the door, he heard a woman on the other side saying, “Some woman is in there fucking her boyfriend,” and he reached the door in time to scoop an arm around Isabella’s waist, tuck her against him. He didn’t want her recognized by anyone out there. He eased out into the narrow hallway, putting his body between the woman and Isabella, flashing the woman his best smile. Beside him, Isabella gasped.
The woman was talking to Sasquatch, who saw Isabella right away, narrowed his eyes and set his teeth when he saw Alex’s arm around her.
Crap.
Alex pivoted Isabella in the opposite direction and stepped between her and Sasquatch. He remembered the heels she was wearing and knew she’d need time to get away in those things. He cursed himself for not noticing if there was an exit in that direction.
The man gave Alex a dismissive glare, and called after Bella. Only he didn’t use her real name, called her something like Bethany. Smart girl. No connections.
Alex wanted to look over his shoulder, make sure she was heading out, but he didn’t dare take his eyes from the behemoth bellowing her alias. Alex played drunk, weaving in front of Henry one way, then the other, as the man tried to pass him to get to Isabella.
“Dude.” Alex laughed drunkenly, holding up his hands in apology. His eyes narrowed, not missing anything. Like the frustration on Henry’s face.
Henry shoved him out of the way and bolted past him to Isabella, who, Jesus, was coming back this way, her eyes huge, and damn, he thought he could see her knees shaking in that short dress.
“I’m sorry, Henry, I have to go. My brother came to find me,” she was babbling.
“Her brother?” demanded the girl Henry had been talking to. “She was screwing her brother?”
God save him from loud-mouthed women. Alex ducked past Henry, grabbed Isabella’s arm, and started to run. With a roar, the security guard followed. Alex pushed Isabella ahead of him, putting his body between hers and danger, through the crowded hallway, into the club, onto the dance floor. He could feel her heart hammering.
She was going to fall. Only his hands on her waist kept her upright, only his pressure on her kept her moving forward through the crowd that didn’t want to part for her, that cast her dirty looks she caught in her peripheral vision because he was pushing her, but holding her up at the same time.
She realized she was heading toward the very alcove she’d been trying to avoid earlier, and she tried to steer away, but the crowd, and Alex, wouldn’t let her.
Even though she was looking straight into Santiago Saldana’s light eyes.